Twenty-Eight
by shortstackedcheesecake
Summary: The boys may have reached adulthood and gone their separate ways, but that doesn't mean they've grown up, or that South Park is far behind them. A collection of three slice of life/character study oneshots. Rated M.
1. Say it's Alright

**A/N:** _So I'm trying something a little different here (at least this is a first for me). This oneshot is going to be the first in a series of three oneshots that are a slice-of-life/character study kind of thing about the main four boys. I was inspired by the seventh series of Skins and how they did 3 two-parter episodes about three of the show's most memorable characters._

 _Eric and Kyle are up first (naturally), and I think it's safe to say that doing my first ever self-conscious character study on a character like Eric Cartman wasn't the wisest thing to do, but, hey I never make it easy for myself. There are so many different facets of his character to analyse that if I attempted them all I probably would've written a massive tome of a fic, so I mostly focused on his character arc during season 20-21 (i.e. when he had his first, real girlfriend). I've rambled enough, so I hope you enjoy and I'd love to hear your thoughts! Thank you for reading!_

* * *

The sky was dimming and evening was fast approaching as Eric was leaving his office. Through glass walls he saw that some of his colleagues were still there with no intention of going home just yet. It had been only slightly unnerving when Eric started working here, to realise there were people just as driven as him. Sure, he was competitive and obsessive enough to stay in the office all night, poring over a project into the early morning hours, but he also recognised he had a life... and a boyfriend. A wonderful, near enough perfect boyfriend who, after years of confused, lingering looks and even more confused, agitated flirting, he had finally landed, and was falling harder for with each date. That thought made a goofy smile spread across his face and his chest clench with an ugly, wretched anxiety he wished he could shake.

"Hey, you're leaving?"

Eric was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of James' voice. He was standing in the small kitchenette, making a cup of coffee.

"Uh, yeah, shouldn't you be too?" Eric asked. "It's six thirty."

James shrugged, and leaned against the door, pushing his supposedly trendy glasses further up his nose.

"Sure, but I have a million things to do that need to be taken care of before Monday."

"Why don't you just work from home?"

James frowned. "That's kind of depressing."

"More depressing than spending Friday night in your office?" Eric smirked.

James laughed, short and only mildly offended. It was the kind of laugh that you would expect to hear when having banter with your crush. Eric thought it was pretty sweet and flattering, so he played along. Plus, his ego was always in need of stroking.

"Well, it would be more fun if I had some company but you're leaving so..." James' voice trailed off, just like his eyes over Eric.

"Yeah, and if I don't hurry I'm gonna be late," Eric replied, already walking away.

"Plans with Kyle, huh?"

"Just dinner and drinks," Eric replied, looking over his shoulder.

"That's fun." James nodded. "It sounds like you two are really happy, huh?"

Eric slowed then, not knowing what the honest answer was. Kyle may have made Eric happy, and he certainly enjoyed spending time with him, but was he happy with the increasing hold Kyle was having on him? Was he happy with the knowledge that he would soon have to surrender to something that terrified him? His feet already uneven on the precipice.

"Totally..." he nodded, speaking softly. He realised then, that he had come to a complete stop. "I'll, uh, see you Monday?"

"Sure." James smiled.

Eric walked away, picking up his pace before he could be asked any more unsettling questions.

* * *

When Eric arrived at the bar he saw Kyle already sat on one of the stools with his back to him, engrossed in his phone. It was funny how even in his most unremarkable moments Kyle could tug at Eric's heartstrings and the corners of his mouth. When Kyle was near him – even if he was on the other side of the room – that apprehension seemed to drift out of Eric's mind, as if his very presence was a welcoming, reassuring signal in stifling, poisonous fog. There was nothing to be scared of. Eric tried to remind himself of that as he approached him.

He softened his footsteps the closer he got to Kyle, and when he was behind him he placed his hands on his hips and leaned in.

"Hey, you better let whatever hot guy you're texting know that your boyfriend has just arrived."

Kyle jumped at the sound of Eric's voice in his ear.

"Shit, Eric, you scared the hell out of me!"

"So I caught you in the act, huh?" Eric chuckled, placing a kiss behind Kyle's ear in an effort to calm him down. He could feel Kyle's chest rising rapidly beneath his fingers.

"No, you caught me texting you that I bought you a beer for when you decided to show up..."

Eric glanced at the bar and saw the bottle of beer waiting for him. He grinned, taking a seat next to Kyle. He was flushed and exasperated, but still smiling at him.

"Okay, I take back the implication that you were cheating," he said, lifting the beer to his lips. "Thanks," he added, before taking a sip.

"No problem..." Kyle replied, his smile still unwavering.

It was moments like these that made it easier for Eric to believe the rug wasn't going to be pulled from under his feet. It was just too bad that the person he imagined holding that rug happened to be Kyle.

* * *

"... So then after the meeting with the CEO and marketing team this morning, I was in my office trying to come up with a pitch for the product all day."

"How long have you got to come up with something?" Kyle asked, twirling some linguine around his fork.

"Like, two days," Eric replied. "We're presenting our ideas on Monday."

"What have you got so far?"

"Right now?" Eric sighed. "Shit."

Kyle's shoulders slouched, as if he too was buckling a little under the weight of Eric's dilemma.

"You'll think of something," he assured, returning to his pasta.

"Really?" Eric couldn't help but smile. After years of being adversaries, Kyle's support was a strange, delightful sensation. He shifted in his seat and leaned in a little closer to him. "Because I could use a pep talk."

Kyle looked up from his dish with a playful smirk.

"Alright," he replied, setting down his fork and leaning in too. They were at a teasing distance from one another, but Eric knew that whatever words were about to come out of Kyle's mouth would be completely earnest. "You're great at your job, and the fact that the agency has decided to run with, what, ten of the ideas you've pitched since you started working there is proof of that."

Eric resented the heat suddenly crawling up his throat, and he ducked his head to hide from Kyle's amused, faithful gaze.

"You're, like, a modern day Don Draper without the charm," he teased.

Eric rolled his eyes in the hopes that it would smother his laughter. He couldn't blame Kyle for taking the opportunity to make a joke.

"Alright, alright could you stop making fun of me for two minutes to tell me how your day was?" Eric asked, smiling as he cut off another juicy piece of his steak.

"It was fine, the usual stuff happened," Kyle replied, leaning back. "I had to talk to Jessica's mom when she picked her up to discuss her biting issues, Toby wet his pants..."

"We had an intern called Toby a couple months ago. It's funny, he used to wet his pants too."

"That's not funny!" Kyle scolded. "You should be more sympathetic to the interns. You were in their position once too."

Eric rolled his eyes, still smiling. "You can spare me the lecture, Kyle."

"Anyway," Kyle continued, although Eric could tell he was trying to bite back an exasperated smile of his own. "I also talked to my mom during my lunch and she said she'd like to visit next weekend. So are you free next Saturday?"

"For what?"

"Brunch with my parents and Ike?"

Eric gulped, reaching for his glass of wine and taking a long sip. Something like brunch with your boyfriend's parents was inevitable, perhaps something to look forward to as well as fret about, but to Eric it also seemed like a reminder that this was too good to be true. Especially when Eric had never endeared himself to Kyle's parents over the years and they hardly tried to hide their opinion of him.

"Sure, but do you really want me there?" he asked, with a horrid nervous chuckle.

"Of course I do," Kyle replied, eyebrows furrowed. "Why would you even ask that?"

Eric huffed, putting his cutlery down because his hands were suddenly fidgety.

"Because, you know, your parents..."

"Yeah?"

"They don't exactly like me," Eric pointed out, like Kyle didn't know. "And I haven't really given them any reasons to."

There was a silence that made Eric believe he may have won this tiny argument – whatever the victory was worth.

"Well, don't you think spending some time with them now is the perfect opportunity to give them a couple of reasons to like you?" Kyle replied.

"I-i-it'll be awkward though," Eric protested.

"I don't care."

Eric huffed again, shaking his head.

"Wouldn't you rather go alone?"

"God damn it, Eric, no I wouldn't!" Kyle snapped. "How many times do I have to say it?"

Eric looked at Kyle, as sheepish as a pouting child who wasn't going to get his way so easily.

"I just think you're making a mistake..." he mumbled.

"I'm not, okay?" Kyle replied, looking into Eric's eyes and holding his gaze in a vice grip. "Maybe my parents don't like you, but that's too bad because I do, and they're going to have to get used to you being around."

Eric sighed, and ran a hand through his hair.

"God damn it..." he muttered, trying to his hide his face behind his arm.

Why did Kyle have all the answers? Why couldn't he get a proper hold on his intentions? Except the ones that filled his heart with relief and a happiness he had never known to be genuine? Why did he have to give in, when he thought he was so much smarter than this? Goosebumps prickled on his skin under Kyle's gentle fingers, stroking his arm.

"What's up?" Kyle whispered.

"Nothing!" Eric snapped, snatching his arm away.

And that was another thing, why did Kyle have to sense and feel the need to react to Eric's every emotion? Was he that predictable? And was Kyle relishing these moments of weakness?

"Then what was with the-"

"It was nothing! Jesus, do you have to be so sensitive?"

Kyle pulled back, stricken, and his face tightened with anger.

"Do you have to be so difficult!" he snapped.

Eric had no idea what move he could make next, but Kyle didn't seem to care. He shook his head and returned to his dish. Eric tried to do the same, but his appetite had vanished.

* * *

Although they didn't talk through the rest of dinner, Eric still found himself offering to walk Kyle home after the cheque had been paid. He didn't know why, except that the thought of parting ways at the restaurant doors was unbearable and Eric wanted to buy himself a little more time with Kyle, perhaps to make amends. Kyle clearly felt the same way, responding to the offer with a nod and a tight smile. But Eric wasn't inspired by the brisk evening air, or the disappointment simmering beneath Kyle's passive face. They had reached Kyle's door with no apologies exchanged, nothing forgiven.

"Well, uh, thanks for walking me home," Kyle said, with all the self-conscious politeness of a first date.

Except Eric didn't remember their first date being like that. He remembered laughing, and teasing, fingers clutching each other's coats, and lips connecting.

"No problem," he replied, wishing he had more to say. He didn't want to go, not just yet.

"So..." Kyle lingered. "Good night, then."

Eric nodded. "Yeah, good night."

Kyle tried to hide a quiet sigh from Eric but he heard it, discomfiting to his ears. He had turned his back on him, fishing in his coat pocket to find his keys. Eric didn't move, watching Kyle unlock the door and open it. This wasn't over just yet. He still had a chance to say something, anything to make this right. It may have been a blow to his pride, but he had been weighing up the cons of his pride losing out to keeping Kyle around and he was still stumped. Right now, he wasn't prepared to let Kyle go.

He stepped forward, fingers brushing Kyle's shoulder.

"I..."

Eric gulped when Kyle turned around, fingers withering as he retrieved his hand. But Kyle's eyes were bright with intrigue, patient, and he was ready to listen. Eric couldn't dismiss his words now. He sighed.

"I'm sorry if I acted like a douche at dinner."

Exasperation extinguished the gleam in Kyle's eyes.

"You _did_ act like a douche."

 _Shit._

Eric nodded, bowing his head like somebody who was less indignant than him might do when they're being reprimanded.

"But I appreciate your apology." Kyle smiled, softer. He stroked Eric's arm. "Thank you."

Eric's skin warmed under Kyle's touch, his gratitude. Giving his arm a gentle squeeze, Kyle reached up to peck Eric's cheek. It was the closest their lips had been to each other all evening, and with a soft, ragged breath Eric abandoned his inhibitions and tilted his head, capturing Kyle's lips with his own. It was risky, since he was still unsure of the depths of Kyle's forgiveness. But his bold move seemed to pay off when Kyle returned the kiss, parting his lips for their tongues to meet. Eric cupped Kyle's face, lifting his chin to sample more of his lips while Kyle grasped Eric's waist with his free hand to pull their bodies flush together.

"And I'll be there next Saturday," Eric said between kisses. "For brunch with your parents. It'll be nice."

"Great." Kyle smiled, wide, and with flushed, gleaming lips. He lowered his lidded gaze to Eric's mouth and leaned into it. "But I don't wanna talk about my parents right now."

"Alright." Eric smiled, but it soon became lost in their lips' clasp.

Their hands started to roam as their kisses deepened, became hotter, and wetter, and interspersed with glistening gasps and moans. Kyle's hands clutched at Eric's waist while Eric's hands travelled to Kyle's hips, guiding him to the doorway and pressing him against the frame.

"Do you wanna come in?" Kyle asked, they were both panting when their lips separated.

Eric's heart fluttered at the invitation.

"Really? I thought you were mad at me."

Even Eric didn't believe that when he raked his gaze over Kyle. His darkened eyes, terse breaths, and warm, quivering body hardly suggested anger.

Kyle chuckled, avoided Eric's gaze.

"Yeah, I should be," he replied. "But my threshold for staying mad at you is receding the longer we date..."

Eric tugged Kyle closer to him, pressing their foreheads together.

"That's really fucking hot." He grinned.

"You're such a weirdo." Kyle chuckled, rolling his eyes.

He grabbed Eric's wrist and pulled him inside his apartment, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Eric's eyelids were beginning to droop, growing heavier, but he would resist sleep as long as he could. There was no way he would abandon a moment as perfect as this; tangled in Kyle's sheets, arm wrapped around his shoulders while Kyle's head was resting on his chest. If Kyle tilted his chin his lips could brush against the lovebites he had littered on Eric's neck less than an hour ago. They were too exhausted to talk, but content in the silence, save for their ragged breath that was starting to mellow. Eric had his other arm resting behind his head, and smiled when Kyle reached across to stroke the milky underside, just below his bicep. He wished every minute with Kyle could be spent like this; safe, and intimate, their tight embrace warding off any insecurity and doubt.

"Eric?"

"Yeah?"

"You can tell me anything."

"I know." Eric replied, even if he wasn't sure he did. He placed a kiss in Kyle's hair, adoring the scent.

"Do you want to talk about what happened at dinner?"

He hoped Kyle couldn't feel his body stiffen, the heat rising on his skin.

"God damn it..." he sighed, rolling his eyes.

He had apologised, he had accepted Kyle's invitation to brunch, what more did he want from him? Pulling his arm from under Kyle, he then shifted away and pulled the covers further up his chest. He ignored Kyle's incredulous huff, but the severance of their embrace stung him too.

"What?" Kyle asked, and out of the corner of his eye Eric could see him sitting up.

"I thought we were letting this go," Eric replied, still refusing to look at him directly.

"Well, maybe you've let it go but I haven't!" Kyle snapped, followed by a sigh so weary Eric had no choice but to look at him. Kyle ran a hand through his hair, and when he looked at Eric his brow was furrowed in a plea that would never go away. "I just wish you would open up more, that's all. Eric, it's exhausting trying to figure out what you're feeling when you never tell me anything-"

"Why the fuck do you need to know everything?" Eric snapped. "Can I keep anything to myself? Can I have some fucking privacy?"

Kyle huffed, flopping back onto the mattress and tugging at the sheets too.

"Jesus, can we make it through one conversation without you getting defensive?" he asked, speaking to the ceiling.

"Or without asking pointless rhetorical questions that get us fucking nowhere?" Eric couldn't help but reply.

The glare Kyle shot him made Eric's voice shrink in his throat and regret his sarcastic comment immediately. Anger just seemed to set Kyle alight, Eric noticed, making him appear more fiery and intimidating. Perhaps it was the hair...

"Maybe if you gave me an honest answer instead of deflecting all the time we wouldn't have that problem..." he shook his head and looked at the ceiling again. "Fucking smartass..."

Eric sat up, temper flaring as well as his anxiety.

"At least I don't interrogate your every move!"

Kyle's eyes widened, indignant and he sat up too.

"Sometimes I wish you would!"

Eric balked, eyebrows furrowed.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You never want to listen! Whenever we try to talk about this stuff you just shut off, like I'm the unreasonable one!" Kyle's shoulders fell, finally relieved of that emotional weight. But it had left his voice brittle, broken. "Do you even care about how I feel?"

"Of course I do!" Eric exclaimed. "I..."

Maybe it was the fact that Kyle was naked, maybe it was the taste of him still on his lips, or maybe it was the weary expression on his face, still patient when so many would've given up, but Kyle had never looked more vulnerable to Eric. It was endearing, but humbling and sobering too, almost convincing Eric to follow suit... to tell Kyle everything he had buried, and feared, even if he resorted to babbling his unrefined words because Kyle wouldn't care, he would just listen. But paranoia had a tighter hold on him than Kyle ever could, and in Eric's mind the two were sworn enemies. Suddenly, Kyle's vulnerability was stifling, and unnerving, and Eric couldn't let his judgement be clouded by it. He had to leave, he had to run.

He huffed, shaking his head.

"I don't need to deal with this shit..." he muttered, turning away from Kyle and retrieving his boxers and pants from the floor.

"Where are you going?" Kyle asked.

Eric could feel the mattress dip as Kyle shuffled over to him, no doubt trying to get him to stay. But he was already half-dressed.

"Home," he replied, grabbing his shirt and throwing it on, buttoning it up as he left Kyle's room.

"Eric!" Kyle called after him. "Eric, wait!"

As he retrieved his shoes he heard Kyle leap out of bed to find his own clothes, hurried and desperate.

"Shit..." he heard Kyle mutter, before his footsteps drew closer.

"Eric!" Kyle shouted. "You're not doing this to me!"

When Eric turned around he saw Kyle in his unbuttoned shirt and boxers, seething and flushed, and Eric flinched at how wild he had driven him.

"I'm not becoming another Heidi fucking Turner, okay?!"

"What?" Eric balked, wondering what the hell she had to do with anything. "That was nearly twenty years ago, Kyle!"

"But nothing has changed, has it?" Kyle pointed out, rueful smile trembling with spite. "You're still pulling the shit you were pulling back then, like a scared, spoiled little kid! And if you wanna act like a child, that's your problem, but you are not fucking breaking me like you broke her!" Kyle's smile had completely vanished. "Not just for my sake, but for yours too! I know you! I know what will happen if you keep pushing people away! If you don't ease up on your damn pride so you can compromise, and trust, and let people in! You'll end up alone and miserable! The world isn't out to fucking get you, _Cartman_!"

Eric winced. Kyle only ever called him by his last name when he was furious at him. It reminded him of every horrible thing he had done, and returning to his present it made him wonder if he had changed at all. It was as perturbing as a ghost, so corrosive that Eric could feel the syllables scraping at his insides.

"Only you are!" Kyle continued. "You're just sabotaging yourself! Can't you see that?"

Eric's nostrils flared, and he balled his fists.

"Maybe I could if people would stop stabbing me in the back and making me look like a fucking idiot!"

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Kyle demanded. "Since we started dating, what reasons have I given you not to trust me?"

Eric searched his brain, but nothing came to mind... except the incidents he had perceived in his head. But even they seemed flimsy and pathetic now.

"Well, you... I..."

"Yeah?" Kyle challenged, stepping closer. "What, Eric?"

"I... I just..." Eric was so close to telling Kyle everything, but that would mean admitting defeat. He had to say something, there had to be another way to say it. "I just feel trapped!"

Kyle stumbled, eyes searching Eric all over for an explanation.

"I... I never meant to trap you-"

"Well, you have!" Eric snapped. "Happy now? Happy now that I've 'opened up'?"

Kyle scowled, eyes burning holes in Eric but he was sure Kyle was hurting more. Shame crawled up his throat.

"You're such a fucking asshole," Kyle said through gritted teeth. "I don't know what I've done to make you feel trapped, but that was _never_ my intention. In fact, it seems like I'm the only one who's been trying to make this work! All I've wanted is for us to be happy-"

" _But I'm not fucking happy!_ "

Eric regretted it as soon as he screamed it, the both of them reeling. The look on Kyle's face actually _hurt_ him, crushing his heart. He wanted to take it back, to brush away the tears pooling at Kyle's lashes before they could fall, press his quivering body close to him before it was wracked with sobs. But his limbs felt weighted, his tongue limp, his voice had vanished. It felt like he was drowning in a nightmare. He had never wanted this.

"Do you really mean that?" Kyle asked. His voice wasn't the only thing that was broken.

 _No!_ Eric's mind was screaming. But he didn't know if was true, he didn't even know what he wanted.

 _Kyle._ To Eric, he was perfect, but perfection was too good to be true. Trusting Kyle was too frightening when Eric knew the devastation that would follow when Kyle let him down, but they couldn't go on like this.

"I... I don't know, Kyle," Eric replied, forcing the words out. "But... whatever I'm feeling I can't fucking stand it any longer."

Kyle's breath hitched, eyes glistening.

"Well... I... could we at least try to fix this?"

 _But you're the problem._

"I don't think so," Eric muttered. The guilt was unbearable. He couldn't stay here any longer.

Kyle ducked his head and took a shattered breath, resigning himself to a terrible reality that remained unspoken. Wasn't this supposed to feel like a victory? To Eric, it felt like a devastating defeat.

"Then I don't know what else I can do. Relationships..." Kyle shook his head, still bowed. "They shouldn't have to be this difficult, Eric."

Eric's nose burned and tears pricked his eyes. He tried to open his mouth to speak but no words would come out. He had already done enough. How was this the right thing? He could have almost forgotten what he was so terrified of in the first place. When Kyle finally looked up at him, Eric was sure the tremendous pain in his chest was his heart snapping in two. He never knew that hurting someone could be so painful.

"I can't believe I thought you were the one," Kyle added. "I guess I was just fucking kidding myself when I thought this was... special."

 _What the hell have you done?_

Eric was shaking. A tear rolled down his cheek.

"I think you should go..." Kyle whispered, dropping his gaze to the floor.

"No." Eric shook his head, stepping closer. He would still fix this. "No, I don't want to-"

"You've said plenty, Eric," Kyle replied, backing away. "You've made your feelings perfectly clear."

Desperation drove Eric forward.

"But, Kyle, I-"

"God, will you please fuck off?!" Kyle cried.

Eric stumbled, shaken. But he was sick of feeling guilty. This wasn't solely his fault, it wasn't. And if Kyle wanted him to leave then he would fucking go...

"Huh... you know, I really should thank you, Kyle," Eric replied, a sardonic smile on his face. "You've just proven my fucking point."

Fresh tears sprung in Kyle's eyes, his lip wobbling. But his nostrils flared, and his mouth soon tightened into a scowl.

"Get out!" he yelled shoving Eric away from him.

He didn't say any more, storming out and slamming the door. But out in the hallway, alone, it felt like he had finally woken up from the nightmare. But reality was just as horrible, and his 'freedom' not so wonderful. In fact, it was cold and lonely, why had he traded Kyle's warm bed for this? Why did he think he would win? When his insecurities would win, every time?

* * *

Four days of unanswered texts and dodged calls and still Eric was typing out the same, familiar pleas to Kyle, calling his number only to be greeted by a voicemail message. Despite the building desperation that Eric needed to be relieved, maybe it was for the best that Kyle hadn't responded, since he had no clue what he even wanted from him. Forgiveness? An apology? A reunion? Ideally, a chance to get his side of the story across. Although time alone with his muddled thoughts still hadn't unknotted them. He hoped that away from Kyle's apartment, and with their charged emotions simmering, he could articulate himself a little better.

Right now, sat on his couch with the TV muted as he waited for Kyle to answer the phone, articulacy seemed like a pipedream. He chewed at the nail of his thumb, and his leg wouldn't stop jittering as he prayed to hear Kyle's voice. His heart clenched when the ringing came to an end, only to deflate when he heard the automated message again.

"Shit!" he muttered.

This was his cue to hang up, usually too nervous to leave a message, but anxiety and pride seemed to have been swallowed up by his damn desperation. At least it was good for something... But then there was silence, bottomless and dark. Eric gulped.

 _Pretend that this is a normal conversation._

He smiled, though his lips wavered.

"Hey... uh..." he sighed, shoulders slouching and he rubbed his face. Who was he kidding? This wasn't like any conversation he had ever had before. "Listen, Kyle, I know this is probably a waste of time but I need to talk to you, okay? Face to face, I just need to see you so we can talk about this. I... I, I need to explain, because what happened at your apartment was a mess, and you haven't replied to any of my texts, or answered any of my calls, so this is it." Eric froze at the finality of those last couple of words. He would never call himself superstitious, but it felt like putting the last nail in the coffin. Though maybe he had done that four days ago? "I guess you ignoring me is a clear fucking sign that I should give up. But I don't want to, not yet. Still, I... I'm really close to doing just that. So I guess what I'm saying is that the ball's in your court. Hopefully, I'll, uh, hear from you soon. Bye."

He sighed as he hung up, tossing his phone to the other side of the couch because he didn't want to look at it anymore. He didn't want to think about Kyle for the rest of the night - although that seemed impossible.

* * *

Kyle must have been unaffected by Eric's voicemail, since three more days passed in agonising silence. Eric had thrown the ball into Kyle's court and was now regretting it. In fact, he was starting to wonder why he had made such a move in the first place. Handing over his control? He would never dream of doing such a thing. But his dreams had been clouded by Kyle lately. Even as a manifestation of Eric's subconscious he was sneaky, making him feel things he had never felt before. Wasn't this kind of shit supposed to stop now that they were no longer together? The realisation gnawed at his heart a little, but he supposed he had to get used to the reality. The signs were pretty clear, after all. A knock at his office door snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Come in..."

It was James, whose enthusiastic grin offended Eric beyond belief right now.

"Hi! I'm just heading out for lunch and I was wondering if you wanted coffee, or-"

"No, thanks."

Normally work was never a chore for him, but all week he had wanted to call in sick and stay in bed all day. He had been so preoccupied with thoughts of Kyle that he had to make a hasty, half-assed pitch at the meeting on Monday which his bosses – unsurprisingly – didn't go for. Now he was forced to work on somebody else's idea when he knew that given the right circumstances he could have come up with something so much better.

James sighed, shutting the door behind him and walking over to Eric's desk.

"Alright, what's up? You've been moping around all week."

"Nothing, it's nothing." Eric shook his head, waving off his concern. "You wouldn't wanna know."

"Well, maybe I do? Can I hazard a few guesses?"

"By all means," Eric muttered, eyes never leaving his computer screen.

"Okay... boy trouble?"

 _Shit. It's really that obvious?_

"Got it in one." Eric chuckled weakly, pursing his lips before his voice could wobble.

"What happened?"

"We had a fight last week, and we haven't talked since."

"Oh..." James whispered, and Eric spared a glance at him. An unsure smile played across his lips. "Still, it's not as if you're the first guy who's had to suffer through the silent treatment, right?"

"Right," Eric replied, before his gaze wandered again. "But this seems definite..."

The silence was as thick as molasses, trapping James in Eric's office, neither of them were able to move the conversation along.

"I'm really sorry, Eric," James muttered.

But when Eric looked at him the small smile on his face was hard to ignore. For the first time in days Eric actually smirked.

"Really? You don't look sorry."

"What?" James blinked. "Oh no, I really am sorry, it's awful, I just..." he scratched at his arm, his smile dying to widen at the corners. "I just had an idea, that's all."

"What?"

"Well, a couple of us are going out tonight and I just thought that maybe you'd wanna come? Take your mind off Kyle."

"Oh, I don't know..." Eric shook his head, swivelling his chair to face his computer once again.

"Come on, it'll be fun!" James replied. "You'll have a few drinks, dance, and wake up with a huge smile on your face. Guaranteed."

"Not if I'm hungover," Eric pointed out, glancing at James with an arched eyebrow.

"But at least that would be evidence of a great night."

"Yeah..." Eric sighed. Maybe a brief shot of amnesia was what he needed? Although he was sure blotting out things you wanted to forget with alcohol was the start of a drinking problem. But he had more control than that, surely? Yes, he did, and he needed to prove it now that he was most definitely single. He grinned. "Fuck it, count me in."

"Great!" James replied, practically bouncing on his toes.

Eric couldn't help but smile at him, not his heart – but his ego – fluttering.

* * *

Buzzed from God knows how many post-work cocktails, and the approving, bubbly laughter of James- and the two girls he had seen at the printer countless times and whose names he was struggling to remember - Eric was starting to think he could get used to the liberated, bar-hopping aspect of single life. Sure, he and Kyle had fun, talking and flirting until the restaurant closed and staying up all night in the security of each other's beds, but he hadn't been out drinking, just him and a group of friends for a long time, and he'd forgotten how fun it was. And yeah, being single had its downsides - loneliness, for example. But Eric could think of nothing better than having time and space to himself. He had been raised an only child, after all. He was perfectly capable of entertaining himself! And if he ever got bored, or if that itch for attention needed to be scratched, then he could go out on nights just like these and find some company. If he was ever in need of a wingman he'd give Kenny a call... or Butters... they _had_ lost touch in recent years, it would be cool to hang out with them again.

The girls wanted to dance, and so had dragged Eric and James to a nightclub. He had wanted to grumble at the typically long line, but instead cheered along with the rest of his drunken gang. But as they stumbled to the back of the line, Eric spotted an unmistakable flash of curly red hair. Could he ever escape him?

"Oh my God..." he murmured, swaying as he stared. "Kyle..."

Eric wandered away from his work friends, ignoring their confusion. This was the first time he had seen Kyle in days. Everything and everybody else around him melted into an insignificant blur. He was busy talking to a girl he faintly recognised, and amongst the pounding music, and the murmured conversation of jostling people he looked happy, carefree. Eric wondered whether he had to pretend at all, or if he had needed any drinks beforehand to lull him into that state.

"Kyle?"

His smile dropped when he saw Eric, and his gaze fell to his shoes. He fidgeted, folding his arms before finally staring into Eric's eyes. His piercing stare was so sharp that it nicked at Eric's resolve, draining any giddiness until he was actually starting to feel sober.

"Hi," he replied, clipped and overdue.

"Yeah, hi..." Eric whispered, smile wavering. He cleared his throat. "What are you doing here?"

Kyle hated clubs, but he shrugged like Eric didn't remember that.

"I'm just out. You remember Kate and Amy, right?"

They were Kyle's old college friends that Eric had only seen in photos on social media. He never expected them to look like that in real life, rid of their carefree smiles for the camera. Tight, polite smiles that hid their disapproval were painted on their faces now. Clearly, Kyle had filled them in on the events of the past week.

"Yeah, um, hi..." Eric said.

They both nodded at him before their attention returned to their phones. Like Eric cared, he wasn't there to talk to them.

"So... who are you here with?" Kyle asked.

"Some people from work," Eric replied, gesturing to the back of the line.

Kyle nodded, wrapping his arms tighter around his chest. Their breath was dense and silvery in the chilly air.

"That's nice." He smiled.

"Yeah..." Eric stepped forward, and Kyle's smile vanished in his shadow. "Did you hear my – have you been getting my-"

"Yeah, I have," Kyle cut in, gaze wandering. Stiff and disinterested, his guard was raised. He was no longer the warm, welcoming Kyle Eric remembered.

"Oh..." he whispered, backing away. "Okay..."

They just stared and waited, but for what? Eric didn't know what he was prepared to give. Kyle's face was crumpling at the edges, like he would cry if he wasn't surrounded by all these people. There were so many things Eric knew he had to say, that he desperately needed to admit, but would never do in public, that he could never do if his pride or his fear had anything to do with it.

"Have a good night," he simply said, ringing hollow amongst the cacophony.

"Thanks," Kyle replied, nodding. "You too."

Eric forced a tight smile before walking away from Kyle again. It was a habit he wished he could kick.

* * *

The club was packed, and yet Eric couldn't escape Kyle. Across the dancefloor teeming with sweaty bodies their eyes were sure to meet. Bright, restless lights sliced through Eric's drunken vision like flashes of lightening, capturing Kyle as a solemn, yearning figure of some Gothic fantasy. He always made a point of staring, before turning to his friends and smiling like nothing was wrong, a drink in hand. Eric didn't care how he looked in his cosy, safe booth, his table crowded with empty bottles and glasses that mostly belonged to him. He had wanted to take the edge off Kyle being here, and he seemed to have succeeded.

"Hey!" James grinned, sliding into the booth with another drink. "Aren't you gonna dance or anything?"

Eric glanced at the dancefloor, saw those two perky girls from the office (whose names he still couldn't remember) laughing hysterically as they tried to perfect seductive dance moves with limbs elasticised by alcohol. He snickered and shook his head.

"I don't dance."

James nodded and dropped his grin, but Eric's attention was soon drawn to a familiar face by the bar. So many people, so many hilarious, outrageous displays of inebriation they could be gawking at, and yet they only seemed to be interested in watching each other.

"Don't let him get to you!" James was suddenly shouting in his ear.

"Who?" Eric asked, turning to James. "Kyle? He's not, I..." Magnetically, helplessly, he glanced at Kyle again. "I couldn't care less."

He took another sip of his beer, as if the numbing effects of alcohol could make him believe that.

"What did you say to him? When you saw him earlier?"

"Nothing." Eric shrugged. "I just told him to have a good night."

"What exactly did you guys fight about, anyway?"

Eric rolled his eyes and laughed.

"Christ, are you always this fucking nosy?"

Eric swore that even in his increasingly blurry vision, distorted by synthetic colours, he saw a blush rush to James' cheeks.

"I'm just curious!" he laughed.

Eric smirked and shook his head, thumbing at the neck of his bottle as he thought of an answer.

"I can't even fucking remember," he replied. "Things were so good, and I was happy, and then... I don't know, we just started fighting more. Like, he kept nagging me, wanted me to talk about all this deep, emotional shit. And I don't do deep, emotional shit, you know? Who the fuck wants to talk about that?" He glanced at James and he nodded in agreement, still smiling. "He was all like, 'I know you're upset, I know you're not telling me something' and how? How the fuck did he know? He thinks he can read me so fucking easily and... God, he's never been good at letting things go..." Eric's smirk faded and he lowered his gaze. "Except for me, clearly."

James laughed, and shook his head, leaning in closer so Eric could feel his breath on his neck.

"He's a fucking idiot for letting you go..." His voice was low and thrumming in Eric's ear. His hand was warm as it travelled up his thigh.

Eric twitched at the feeling of James' palm pressed against the sensitive area, not entirely unwelcome, yet an earnest voice was pleading with him to shove James' hand away from his leg. He glanced at his lap, and when he looked up he wasn't sure if Kyle stood by the bar was a mirage formed by his conscience. His stare was cutting through the oblivious crowd, pleading with him almost as loud as that damn voice in his head, but what was he trying to say? If he cared so much then why didn't he come over here and talk to Eric himself? Hell, fight for him! But who was Eric kidding when he would rather drink to forget Kyle was here than try to have a conversation with him at all? He frowned, hoping his empathy would travel over the pounding music and reach Kyle over on the other side of the room.

"He's still looking over here..." Eric could practically hear the smile in James' voice. He started to apply gentle pressure to his thigh. "You think he's jealous?"

"Yeah... maybe..."

Eric didn't know what the hell was going on between them anymore. He shifted in his seat so James' hand was closer to his crotch, and he turned his head to smile at him. James eyes' were glinting, his tongue prodding at his lips, what he wanted was so obvious. It was painted across his face. Right now, Eric only had patience for people who were predictable, who knew what they wanted... especially when what they wanted was him. He took one last look at Kyle, giving him one last chance to _do something_.

"I don't give a shit what he thinks anymore," Eric announced, before staring at James' full, waiting lips.

He wanted to kiss them, but something – rather, someone – was making him hesitate. When did his whole life, his whole personality, start to revolve around Kyle? Why was he allowing him to influence so many of his actions when Kyle had no problem ignoring him? When he didn't even have the fucking balls to admit outright he wanted Eric out of his life? He was no different to anybody else who wanted to change him, to deceive him, only to leave him with nothing. And if Kyle wanted to leave him, Eric may as well give him a reason to. They could consider this a clean break. Eric smashed his lips against James', and with how closely they had huddled together in the booth, Eric could feel James' body jolt against his when their lips met. He squeezed Eric's thigh, opened his mouth to push his tongue between his lips. This wasn't how this was supposed to feel. This was supposed to be triumphant, and liberating, and _fucking hot at least_ , but it felt like none of those things. It felt desperate, and rushed and cheap, and Eric hated it. It hurt he hated it so much, and he pulled away, disgusted with himself.

He looked to the bar once again, searching for a quick fix, for salvation, for Kyle. He easily found him, like an incandescent star in the sky. But seeing Kyle didn't flood his heart with hope, he didn't offer any forgiveness. He had seen it all, had watched like one would watch a car crash - horrific, but you can't peel your eyes away. Kyle was fixing him the same hard, stern stare as he did the night of their disastrous argument, eyes glittering with tears. It prompted the same instinct in Eric – run away and save yourself.

"Are you alright?" James asked.

"No..." Eric's voice was lost in the music. He shook his head. "No, I'm not..."

Eric shuffled out of the booth, his head whirring as he stood up.

"Hey!" James called from across the table, shifting along the fake leather seats too. "Where are you going?"

"Outside!" Eric replied, he needed air. "Don't follow me!"

Eric turned away and began pushing through the crowd before he could hear James' response. He navigated his way through glistening, sweaty limbs and was panting and sweating himself by the time he reached the exit. The din of shrill, exuberant conversations rang in his ears and he welcomed the cold, night air on his face. Teeth gritted and fists balled, he stumbled into the alley. It stank of piss and moulding garbage but it was better than being trapped in a nightclub with your ex and the co-worker you just made out with. Eric growled, gripping his hair and pacing as he wondered what the fuck he was thinking, and what the hell he was going to do now, because he couldn't find anybody else to blame for his actions except himself. And that realisation alone filled him with such despair that thick, repressed sobs broke though his enraged seal. He buried his head in his hands.

"Eric!" Kyle's voice sliced through the mingled conversation of passersby. "Eric, are you out here?"

Eric froze, swiping at his tears and trying to compose himself as Kyle neared him.

"Eric?"

He turned around, wiping his hands on his jeans, and saw Kyle glowering at him. He gulped. His feet seemed to be stuck to the wet pavement as Kyle stormed over to him.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Kyle demanded, shoving him.

Eric stumbled, but was undeterred by Kyle's rage. He had been well-acquainted with it since preschool, after all. He shrugged.

"Just getting some fresh air."

"No, you fucking smartass, I mean what the hell were you doing in there! Who was that you were making out with?!"

Eric swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat. Did he have to be reminded of that?

"James," he replied. "I work with him."

"Huh, that's really fucking classy, Eric! Is this what you think we're doing now? Fucking random people?"

"Well, we're clearly not fucking each other anymore, so..."

Kyle winced, and although he tried to disguise it with a disapproving huff Eric knew him too well to not notice when he was hurt. He shook his head.

"I can't believe you-"

"What?" Eric snapped, throwing his arms up at his sides and stepping closer. "What did you expect me to do? Pine for you forever? Keep waiting for you even though you've been ignoring me for the past week?" He shook his head. "See, this is what's so fucking twisted about getting involved with people! It's all a big fucking trick! They make you feel so fucking happy and then... that's where the problems start, because as soon as you start to trust them, they break you down, and fuck you over!" His eyes started to burn again, and he shook his head with a rueful laugh. "So I guess the joke's on me again, right? Because as soon as I start to feel like I can't live without you, you go ahead and leave me anyway!"

Eric was seething now, and Kyle was wide-eyed and bewildered in front of him. Eric was so furious at what Kyle had reduced him to, and he turned his back on him so he wouldn't see him cry. He hid his face in his hands once more. The sound of his sobbing filled the alley.

"Eric..." Kyle murmured, fingers brushing Eric's shoulder but he shrugged him away.

"Fuck off!" he cried.

"Eric..." Kyle whimpered. He raised his voice. "Eric, look at me!"

Grabbing Eric's shoulders, Kyle spun him around to face him. His grip soon softened, and he looked into Eric's eyes.

"I'm so sorry," he added, talking slowly like he didn't want to startle him. "I've handled this completely the wrong way. It's just that... shit, I was so mad at you. But..." Kyle reached up to cup Eric's cheek, swiping a tear. Eric was still sniffling. "I never wanted to leave you. You..." Kyle pursed his lips, his own eyes wet. "You just made me feel like I had no other choice."

Eric shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut and releasing more tears.

"I've ruined it," he replied. "Kyle, I'm sorry, I've fucking ruined it-"

Kyle cut him off by wrapping his arms around him and pulling him into a tight embrace. The kind of embrace that Eric believed was the safest place in the world, the kind of embrace that could silence his despair forever. He returned the hug, and gave Kyle a squeeze.

"Sshh, it's okay," Kyle whispered, stroking Eric's back. His body was still wracked with sobs. "Come on, I think you better go home."

Eric nodded, and even when they pulled away from their embrace Kyle didn't let Eric go. He held his hand as he led them out of the alley, and walked them home.

* * *

Like returning to reality after a hypnotist act, Eric had found himself in Kyle's bed when it only seemed like moments ago he was stumbling down the streets with him. He had been sleeping over the covers, and he awoke to a dry mouth and a head that felt stuffed with cotton wool, soaked with memories that blurred into one another. He remembered sipping at cocktails and laughing, running into Kyle, doing shots with the guys from work, finding Kyle under the restless club lights, James' hand on his leg, their kiss, the smell of the alley assaulting his nostrils, tears burning his eyes, and Kyle again. Kyle glaring at him, hugging him, holding his hand.

Yawning sunlight crept into his vision and he squinted. Turning away from the window, he was greeted by the sight of Kyle sleeping peacefully beside him. His face was half-shielded by his arm, and he was wearing a t-shirt and pyjama bottoms that Eric had often seen him wear during lazy days spent at this apartment. They would watch movies, sprawled out on the sofa, and Eric would lean over and tickle Kyle in the ribs. He loved the feeling of Kyle's body thrumming with breathless laughter beneath his fingers. Eric smiled, and reached out, fingertips brushing Kyle's skin. He had to be gentle, he knew how much of a light sleeper Kyle was. Kyle's eyelids trembled and he stirred. Eric snatched his hand away, heart pounding as he watched Kyle nestle into the pillows.

He couldn't believe he was next to Kyle again, but gratitude and relief overwhelmed his surprise. After all, Kyle's patience and fortitude when it came to dealing with him throughout the years was staggering. He was never going to give up that easily. Eric's heart prickled with shame then, that he could ever think Kyle would be so fickle as to flood his life with happiness before snatching it away. That horrid, prickling feeling crawled up his throat when he remembered what he had accused Kyle of. He wished he didn't have to wait until they were both awake to apologise. He could have just whispered it to him now, but there were so many things he needed to let Kyle know, and he realised that once he had told Kyle one thing he wouldn't be able to stop himself from telling him the rest. No, Kyle deserved to hear it all, unfiltered and unpractised so he would know it was honest. At least Eric could vow to himself he would only be that from now on. Honest. It would be difficult, it would take time, but he was willing to do it if Kyle could help him.

He fell asleep with a smile on his face, but when he woke up later Kyle was no longer beside him. Confusion and panic pierced his stewed mind, but when he reached for his phone on the floor and discovered he had a text from Kyle, he brightened. The text read:

 _Gone to brunch with Ike and my parents. Help yourself to whatever. I'll talk to you later._

The lack of kisses left Eric deflated, not exactly promising. But it was his job to fix that, and impatient as he was, he had to fix it now. Invigorated, he got out of bed and went about freshening himself up. He had to look nice for brunch with his boyfriend's parents, after all.

* * *

Eric may have been totally predictable to Kyle, but that didn't mean that Kyle was so hard to read. Eric knew exactly where Kyle would take his family to brunch, because Kyle had taken him to that restaurant when they had slept in and were too lazy to make breakfast themselves. Peering through the window, he saw Kyle sat next to Ike, chatting to his parents across the table. He smiled, and it quelled the anxiety tightening in his chest, even if he knew he was about to disturb an otherwise pleasant family gathering. Taking a deep breath, he walked to the door and reeled at the sudden rush of warmth from the heaters placed above it, and the bubbly chattering of the other diners.

But spotting Kyle's mop of red hair was like spotting a welcoming lighthouse in fierce, clamouring waves. He just had to swim through his nerves to find him. He weaved through the tables and eventually reached Kyle's table. Their conversation sounded hollow when his heart was pounding in his ears. In fact, he could barely hear his own thoughts.

"Hi..." he breathed out.

Eric was suddenly made aware of how tall he stood over the table when they all looked up from their coffee and menus, with varying degrees of surprise. Kyle's dad offered him the briefest, most uncomfortable look of confusion before returning to his menu, Ike's brow furrowed but was most concerned with the reaction of his brother who looked... mortified. Not exactly what Eric was hoping, but it occurred to him then that he didn't really know what he was expecting.

"Why, hello, Eric!"

He was brought back to reality by Kyle's mom, who at least was trying to ground the situation in some politeness and normalcy. Eric supposed he should thank her for that.

"'Sup, man?" Ike added, still stealing worried glances of Kyle.

"Hey, I..." Eric closed his eyes and shook his head. He could feel himself shaking. "I-I-I'm sorry for interrupting-"

"It's alright." Kyle's mom smiled.

"What are you doing here?" Kyle asked, and Eric felt weakened by relief that Kyle still did want to talk to him.

"I need to talk to you."

Kyle glanced around the table before returning to Eric and lowering his voice. "Okay, but can we do this later?"

"No, it has to be now." Eric's voice was firm, even though it felt like everything inside was crumbling.

"Then can we at least go outside?"

Eric shook his head.

"I need witnesses, I..."

Taking a shaky breath, Eric followed his instincts and got down on his knees, taking Kyle's hands and holding them.

"Eric, what the hell is going on?" Kyle asked, frozen and bewildered.

"Trust has always been a problem for me," Eric began, trying to sort through all the things he had wanted to tell Kyle when he saw him, that he had needed to tell him for a while now. "It's hard for me to trust people, to trust myself, even, what I'm feeling... and feeling angry, and cheated, and belligerent? That was comfortable for me, but feeling happiness and contentment?" He shook his head. "That was always something to be suspicious of, especially when another person was responsible for all that. When you start to care for people, when you start to let them occupy your thoughts, it makes you vulnerable, you know? At least, it made me feel so _weak_. I couldn't deal with that, I couldn't let that happen, so I started to doubt people... no matter how good they were for me, or how well they treated me. I had to convince myself there was some sinister, ulterior motive to their actions, because pushing them away seemed less painful then letting people in. But then you..." Eric squeezed Kyle's hands and smiled. "You've always been different, Kyle. No matter how hard I pushed, you didn't budge an inch." He stopped when he heard Kyle snicker, sheepish and dazed, and his own smile brightened. "For years you've been challenging me, and calling me out on my shit, and you were always there for me. It was only a couple years ago that I realised that maybe I wanted to be with you, and it was only two months ago that we decided to give this a shot. But I haven't been playing fair. I've never really been good at that. It's just that I... panicked. Honestly, I was terrified of losing you. I was terrified that you'd make me so happy and then just leave me with nothing. I ruined this the moment I started to trust you, because to me that just meant the beginning of the end. I started to doubt you, and resent you for making me feel this way, and it's horrible, because I didn't want to feel that way about you. I just want to be with you, without sabotaging it, because you were right. That's what I always do, and I don't want to end up alone, and I especially don't want to lose you for good. I hope I haven't, because you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Kyle." Eric ignored the stinging in his eyes, the clenching of his heart. "I don't know how I got so God damn lucky, and I'm the least deserving guy in the world to have you. But I want to change that. You make me want to be a better person, the kind of boyfriend you deserve. I will never stop trying to make you happy, and I swear, I will start putting as much effort into this as you have. I'm not scared anymore. I'm done with all the bullshit I've been getting away with my entire life, and I'm done with hurting you, and pushing you away. I'm so sorry for everything I've put you through, because I've put you through hell, I can see that now. I hurt you so much that I almost turned you into the person I was afraid of. I pushed you to your limits and almost broke you. I know you were afraid of becoming like Heidi, but..." Eric shook his head, rubbed at Kyle's wrist with his thumb. "You'll never be like her. I can't stop loving you long enough for you to be like her. I'm sorry I haven't told you sooner, but I _do_ love you, Kyle... with all my heart."

A tear splashed onto his arm and pulled him out of his reverie, and when he looked at Kyle his face was flushed, his eyes glistening. It seemed he was dazed too, but a smile soon flickered on his face and he let go of Eric's hand to cup his face, and bring their lips together. Their tears travelled down their cheeks when their lips met, and Eric could've buckled at the feeling of Kyle's lips pressed against his own again.

"I love you too," Kyle murmured. He was blurry in Eric's eyes.

"I love you so fucking much," Eric replied, voice thick. He stole another kiss. "I'm so sorry."

Kyle shook his head and threw his arms around Eric's shoulders, burying his face in his neck. Sighing, Eric closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Kyle's back, pulling them together in a tender clasp. This was perfect, and Eric wasn't afraid to acknowledge it. How could he have ever wanted to be anywhere else?

"Uh... we're still here, guys." Ike pointed out.

He supposed being somewhere a little more private and away from Kyle's family would've been preferable. They pulled away from each other, red-faced and exchanging shy smiles.

"Really touching though..."

"Ike!" Kyle's father hissed.

Ike raised his hands in defence, before nudging Kyle and grinning at the both of them. Eric had learned long ago that Kyle didn't hold his father's opinion in high regard, and neither did his little brother.

"So are you going to join us, Eric?" Kyle's mom asked.

"Yeah." Eric nodded, emboldened by Kyle's wide smile. "That would be great."

Standing up, Eric then grabbed a chair from another table and placed it close to Kyle. When he sat down, he didn't hesitate to reach out for Kyle's hand on the table and weave their fingers together. For the first time in his life, he wanted to love somebody without a second thought.


	2. Wish You Were Here

**A/N:** _This fic is so overdue, omg. I've been struggling with serious writer's block lately, but I think I'm over it now. I was determined to finish this fic, pfft! Plus, there's so little Stary content that I felt morally obligated to contribute, and Stan is always a fun challenge for me to write, since I so rarely write from his perspective. I hope you guys enjoy, and thank you for reading!_

* * *

Even when weary from travelling, and maybe the slightest bit seasick, Stan had to admit the island had been enchanting at night. The inky sky, cluttered with stars, was reflected on the glimmering sea, and save for the roar of the engine tearing through the waves, all was silent until they reached the harbour. The sudden sound of workers conversing as they milled around the docks, and the distant peals of laughter and the thrum of festive music from the town had been quite disorientating to Stan after that mild, perfect quiet. But soon, sat in the back of a cab on his way to the beachside Bed & Breakfast, he came to love those lively noises too.

In the daylight, however, the island was breathtaking and saturated with colour; from the wide, aqua sky, to the sour green vegetation and flowers swollen with pollen, to the bright houses and shops lining the streets like a painter's palette. It was strange, Stan thought, but also a relief, to find a paradise such as this that had barely been touched by commercialisation. He knew there were equally as impressive resorts a boat ride away, but who needed all that noise? Especially when travelling by yourself. As he walked along the pale beach, with only the crash of the turquoise waves and the squawk of tropical birds overhead to disturb the silence, he knew this was just what he needed and definitely worth the months of saving and deprivation.

Reaching a rock pool, the iridescent glimmer of small fish caught his eye. They wriggled their way through the water, joined by tiny, white crabs. Kneeling down, Stan inspected them further. He loved all animals, but had a particular fondness for marine life, even the smallest ocean dwellers. He smiled, dipping his fingers in the cool, shallow water.

"Hey!" A voice called out. It was an accent similar to his own, though decidedly more chipper. "Hey, excuse me!"

Furrowing his eyebrows, Stan stood up and looked around for the owner of the voice. He soon spotted a tall, blond guy who seemed to have emerged from the line of palm trees, waving and jogging over to him.

"Hi!" Blond guy said when he finally reached him. "I don't wanna disturb you it's just... those crabs are mean little things, and super dangerous. Last month one of them nipped at a guy's finger and it swelled up like a disgusting, pus-filled balloon and... well, he was in the hospital for a long time."

"Oh, um, I didn't realise," Stan replied, glancing at the rock pool before returning to the stranger. "Thanks for telling me, uh-"

"Gary." He grinned, with perfect white teeth. He held his hand out to shake. "Harrison."

Stood right in front of him, Stan could now see how handsome Gary was. His skin was decidedly more tanned than Stan's pink sunburn, almost matching his warm, toffee-coloured eyes. His hair was a golden blond, wavy and cropped to his jaw, tucked behind his ears. He was dressed modestly, in a plain t-shirt and khaki, wide-leg shorts that sat just below his knees, but even that outfit couldn't hide his lean, muscular arms and trim frame. Stan smiled, though was reluctant to return the handshake. Not only because of how physically inadequate he felt standing in front of Gary, but because his presence was making him sweat more than the Caribbean sun, and nervous butterflies were already twisting his stomach in knots. If Stan actually touched him, the consequences could be mortifying. But it was rude not to shake his hand, especially when Gary had been so friendly, and considerate to warn him about the vicious crabs in the rock pool.

"Stan Marsh," he replied, returning the handshake.

Gary's eyes widened at the mention of his name, and he froze. The slowing, robotic handshake went on for so long that Stan had to snatch his hand away. That wide, bright smile returned, however, but it didn't make Stan feel any better.

"I knew you looked familiar..." Gary said.

Stan raised his eyebrows.

"You did?"

"Yeah!" Gary chuckled, nodding. "Stan Marsh? From South Park, right?"

Now, it was Stan's turn to freeze. Despite the heat, a shiver ran down his spine and he began to back away.

"Yeah, how did you – shit!" He replied, almost stumbling over a rock.

"Whoa, careful!" Gary laughed, grabbing Stan's wrist to steady him.

He was too embarrassed and still too perturbed to thank him. In the awkward, stifling silence, Gary dropped the smile and cleared his throat. Stan appreciated it, and he smoothed down his shirt as he waited for an explanation.

"I used to live in South Park too!" Gary said, grin helplessly returning. "Only for a little while though, I guess you may have forgotten..." He ducked his head then, and rubbed the back of his neck. He seemed a little deflated, disappointed that Stan couldn't remember. He was still drawing a blank. "I was in your class? You had dinner at my house?"

Stan remembered then; the conversation in the playground with a boy who seemed just as perfect, even irritatingly so, and his large family, and being told the story of Joseph Smith after dinner...

"Wait, the Mormon kid?" Stan asked.

 _The kid I thought I would never see again._

"Yep, that's me," Gary replied, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Small world, huh?"

"Totally!" Stan couldn't help but laugh. He coughed into his fist though and copied Gary, tucking his hands into his pockets too. "I... I'm sorry I didn't recognise you earlier, it's just, a lot of crazy stuff happened when I was a kid and-"

"I've heard. That town was never far from the news, right?" Gary chuckled, before waving the apology off. "It's cool."

"Yeah, well, thanks," Stan replied, before he realised he had another apology that was way overdue, an apology he never thought he would have a chance to make. "And, I'm, uh... sorry about what happened when we were kids." He sighed, struggling to look at Gary. "You were just trying to be my friend, and I judged you, and that wasn't fair."

Gary shrugged, still smiling, but Stan knew that wasn't an apology he could shake off so easily. It was one that needed to be acknowledged, that Stan needed to be forgiven, for both their sakes.

"Hey, don't sweat it," he said regardless. "Like I said, it's cool. We're all grown-up now."

"Thanks." Stan smiled, cheeks flushing. "Again."

"No problem. So what are you doing here?"

"Oh, just travelling," Stan replied, grateful that Gary was steering them to another topic of conversation. "I've wanted to come to the Caribbean since college, it's beautiful. So I'm just visiting different islands. I've been travelling around for a couple of weeks, but I only arrived on this island last night."

"Wow, that's great! Are you liking it so far?"

"Yeah, I love it. The beach is..." Stan paused, eyes roaming the blue horizon before they returned to Gary's waiting, smiling face. "Wonderful."

"I think so too," Gary replied, looking to the sea as well. "I love coming here."

"So, do you, like, live here or something?"

"Yeah, I came here when I was nineteen to do my mission work with the church and I fell in love with the place. Even when I got here there were a couple of other older missionaries who had stayed on and built their own church. It's amazing, the community is so generous and welcoming. It's paradise, really."

Stan nodded. "Seems like it."

"Do you wanna see it?"

"What?"

"The church? It's not far from here..." Gary gestured to the palm trees.

Admittedly, taking a look at a church wasn't exactly how Stan had wanted to spend his afternoon, but he hadn't expected to run into Gary either. And he definitely didn't want to part from him yet.

"Sure," Stan replied. "That would be great."

Gary smiled and without another word, began to walk away, but Stan quickly followed him.

* * *

"I got to admit, I had it a lot easier here than most people have on their missions," Gary said as they walked down the street, Stan could still hear the sea crashing not too far away. "The hardest part is trying to spread the message of the Book of Mormon to random people and to help them join the church. You go door-to-door and some people may already be committed to a religion, or have no interest in religion, or have a bad opinion on _your_ religion."

Stan cringed, he had no idea if Gary meant to be pointed with that remark, and that made him feel even worse for acting like such a dick to a guy who was so forgiving and easy-going. Even if the transgression occurred when he was a kid, that didn't stop him from feeling a little ashamed.

"But here, the other missionaries had done such a great job, that we had already established a church here. So, really, it was a case of assisting _them_ ," Gary continued. "I taught the younger kids, and did charity work, and volunteered at the hospital. I guess that's the biggest lesson I take from my faith, the importance of kindness and helping others. After two years you can go back home, but _this_ was my home, now. Or, like, my second home at least. I feel like there's so much more I still want to do here that I can't go back yet."

"I don't blame you for not wanting to go back home." Stan sighed, turning his face to the bright sun. "How could anybody want to leave this place?"

"Beats me." Gary shrugged. "Where are you staying, anyway?"

"Oh, the uh, 'Turtle Inn' bed and breakfast? A woman and her husband run it. I think her name is Collette-"

"Oh, yeah, I know!" Gary interrupted with a grin. "They're a nice family. The church has a huge, annual barbecue and Collette always helps out with the food. She's an amazing cook. She probably cooked your breakfast this morning."

"Probably," Stan replied, remembering the sweet plantain pancakes and coffee he had that morning. He sighed. "It was delicious."

"Most likely her, then..."

Gary's gentle, half smile almost disappeared in the glare of the sun, but it still caught Stan's attention and coaxed a soft, quiet laugh out of him.

"Hey, Gary!"

Stan followed the sound and was greeted by the sight of a small, red brick building that, despite its uniqueness, paled into the background of the colourful street. A silver plaque, declaring the building the "Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints" was next to the wide, screen doors and three young men, dressed similarly to Gary, were lounging on the porch, drinking water out of crinkled plastic bottles. One guy, however, had stood up, and was waving Stan and Gary over.

"Hey!" Gary waved back, before again walking over to the building without another word to Stan.

Admittedly, Stan was a little more annoyed this time but still followed Gary over to his friends.

"Who's this?" Another guy asked, leaning against a white column.

"Guys, this is Stan," Gary replied. "He's a friend from back home."

Stan couldn't help flush at being referred to as Gary's friend, and his heart clutched at the opportunity it presented. Perhaps this little run-in was the perfect time for him to really make amends?

"Oh, so is that where you went?" The first guy asked.

"No, no, but when I went for a walk on the beach, I just so happened to run into Stan. Can you believe it?" Gary grinned, clapping Stan hard enough on the back to wind him. "I had no idea he was here, we hadn't seen in each other in years!"

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Stan!" The first guy beamed, grabbing Stan's hand and shaking it vigorously. He had large, blue eyes and an even bigger grin. His jet black hair was slicked back, by sweat or product Stan was unsure. "I'm Ryan, I'm who Gary was stuck with for two years."

"Nice to meet you," Stan replied, returning the handshake.

He was careful not to come off as disobliging, plastering the biggest smile he could muster on his face. But compared to these guys, even that would appear half-hearted and meek.

"And that's Simon, and that's Todd," Ryan said, pointing to the other two guys who were already making their over to Stan and no doubt preparing their own introductions.

"Hey, Stan, how are you?" a guy with sandy blond hair asked as he shook Stan's hand. "I'm Simon."

Stan only had time to nod before Todd snatched his hand away from Simon's grip and shook it too.

"It's great to meet you, Stan." He smiled.

"Thanks, you too," Stan replied, making a note to wipe his hand on his shorts when he was out of their sight. Too much hand-shaking had left his palm hot and sweaty.

"I just wanted to show Stan the church," Gary explained.

"It's, uh, lovely." Stan nodded, studying the building.

"Thank you!" Todd beamed.

"So will you be attending any services while you're here, Stan?" Ryan asked.

Gary's patient, encouraging gaze instilled some much needed courage into Stan when his friends were awaiting his answer eagerly. Stan knew he would feel like an inconsiderate asshole stepping on their hospitality if he declined, but he was still a sceptic.

"Oh, probably not, I'm, uh, not a Mormon..."

He winced and tucked his hands behind his back as Todd, Simon, and Ryan exchanged puzzled glances.

"You're not?" Simon asked.

"No, no, I'm a... catholic, I guess?" Stan replied, his face warm. Religion had been at the back of his mind since he was a teenager, at least. "It's hard to say, I haven't been to church since I was a kid, so..."

"Well, that's great!" Todd grinned.

"We welcome everyone," Ryan assured, with a nod.

Stan sighed in relief. It was going to take much more than a sceptical, religiously confused tourist to put a dent in their enthusiasm.

"Thanks, uh-"

"You want me to show you around the rest of the town?" Gary asked, placing his hand on Stan's arm.

"Sure, I'd like that," Stan replied, relieved and delighted.

"Then let's go," Gary said as he led Stan away. He nodded to his friends. "I'll see you later, guys."

"Thanks, guys." Stan smiled, nodding at them too. "It was nice meeting you."

As they walked down the street, Stan could hear a chorus of goodbyes coming from the church.

* * *

The town was brighter, but so much quieter in the daylight. Conversation still drifted out of the busy stores, but the restaurants seemed to mostly be occupied by waiters wiping down tables and families finishing their lunch. The bars were even more deserted and quiet, save for a few dozy regulars who lounged in the sun.

Stan and Gary stood by the seafront, not too far from the harbour where Stan's boat had docked the night before, and ate ice cream. Stan had ordered strawberry, and Gary chocolate, and although Stan had smirked to himself when Gary suggested buying their scoops, something cold and sweet was much appreciated in the heat. Whenever Stan licked his lips the strawberry mingled with the salt on his skin.

"So besides the church, and the volunteering, and all that good Mormon stuff what else do you do here?"

Gary laughed under his breath, like he could have forgotten all those wonderful things he had reeled off to Stan so casually only an hour earlier. He looked to the sea, as if it could make him recall them all.

"Well, Ryan and I play tennis sometimes," he replied. "I teach guitar to some of the kids, play soccer... oh, and I surf."

"Wow, really?" Stan smiled.

He had the grown-out hair, sure, but to Stan, Gary just didn't seem like your typical, mellow surfer dude. But then he imagined Gary emerging from the waves with a board tucked under his arm, his hair dripping wet, and his bare skin glistening in the sun. His smile didn't dissipate, weighted by the dreamy image.

"Yeah, I love it." Gary grinned. "I never had the opportunity before I came out here, but this guy Zac runs his own surfing school and Ryan and I decided to try it out. Ryan liked it, sure, but he forgot about it soon enough when running the church started to take up more time. But for me it was like my stress relief, you know?" he sighed, eyes returning to the sea again. Stan never realised just how captivating the water could be. "It sounds cheesy, but being out there just slows the whole world down, and I don't think about anything else except the waves. If I'm ever mad, or stressed, or upset, I just grab my board, go to the beach, and all my thoughts just seem to... turn off."

Stan nodded, eyes drawn to the bewitching sea too.

"Sounds really peaceful..." he turned to Gary. "Maybe it would ruin the Zen of the whole thing, but, you ever think about entering competitions?"

"Totally," Gary replied, eyes returning to Stan too. "I have entered a few."

"How did you do?"

Gary shrugged. "I came first a couple times..."

Stan's shoulders drooped in fond exasperation. Gary couldn't fool him that easily. He knew he was trying to be modest, and he also knew that Gary seemed to have the golden touch with any hobby he picked up.

"How many times?"

Gary fidgeted, shy eyes struggling to meet Stan.

"All the time..."

Stan laughed and shook his head.

"Of course you did..."

His laughter simmered when Gary gave his arm a soft nudge.

"Anyway, enough about me, come on..." he let his gaze wander over Stan, oblivious to how much it made his skin prickle. "I wanna know more about you. I don't even know what you do for a living."

If he was honest, Stan wasn't a hundred percent sure himself, but in Gary's company acknowledging that didn't seem like such a scary, embarrassing revelation. Maybe it was his own job, his devotion to his faith, that made him exude the trustworthiness of a priest in the confessional, encouraging Stan to tell all... or maybe it was his wealth of compassion, and gentle smile, catching Stan's eye like the glinting sun.

"Well, I'm, uh, kinda in between things lately," he admitted. "I've spent the last few years of my life training to be a veterinary assistant but then when I actually found a job I realised this isn't what I want to do."

"So what do you want to do?"

Stan sighed.

"I don't know, I just... I've always wanted to work with animals." He smiled. "I still do. And I guess being a vet or an assistant seemed like the only option to me. Plus, I would be helping animals and saving lives, what's more rewarding to an animal-lover than that?" he shook his head, studied his melting ice cream. "But the idea of it didn't exactly match up to the reality. I have a pretty weak stomach, and in school I seemed to handle it, because I could convince myself it wasn't actually real, but by the time it _was_ , I would've gotten used it."

"But you didn't?"

Stan shook his head, before looking up from his ice cream.

"So now I'm just taking a break – the first break I've had since graduating high school – and thinking, maybe... about where I want to go next."

"And you've had no ideas so far?" Gary asked, before casting his arm to the sea. "None of these beautiful places you've visited has inspired you?"

"A little..." Stan shrugged and smiled to himself. "Marine biology is appealing to me. Ever since I was a kid I've been fascinated by that kind of stuff."

"Then go for it!" Gary beamed. "It sounds like it could be an amazing opportunity for you, and something that could really make you happy, Stan. You deserve to take that chance." He lowered his head but kept his eyes on Stan, and he found himself gazing at Gary's mouth. "And for what it's worth, I think you'd be great."

"Thanks, Gary..." Stan smiled.

"No problem."

Their eyes met, and Stan's smile wobbled. In fact, when he was the subject of Gary's stare he felt giddy all over, wondering what exactly he was contemplating with those warm, thoughtful eyes... especially when Gary's gaze wandered to his mouth. Stan told himself not to get carried away. His eyebrows drew together, puzzled, when Gary's stare hardened.

"What?" Stan asked, the word falling from his lips.

Pulled away from his thoughts, Gary smiled.

"You've just got some ice cream..."

He pointed to Stan's mouth, before swiping a blob of ice cream off his lip with his index finger. Stan's breath hitched and his lips parted at the gentle, fleeting touch. It was like Gary had flipped a switch to drain the island of oxygen, and Stan flushed unbearably in the stifling heat. He hoped he could blame it on sunburn.

"There," Gary said, before licking the offending blob off his finger. "All better."

Stan had no idea what to say in return, his mind melting just as fast as the ice cream. He could barely understand how such a swift, chaste touch could make him lose himself like that, let alone formulate a reply. So he just chuckled instead, faint and short, and a smile spread across his face before he could stop it. Gary returned a smile, before doubt clouded his eyes for the first time today and he looked at the sidewalk, wiping his own mouth. Discovering a slight in Gary's otherwise easy-going exterior was somewhat unnerving for Stan.

"Shoot!" Gary said, catching sight of his watch. "I gotta get to the church."

"Oh," Stan replied, his voice still at that faint octave. He nodded. "Okay..."

"Do you wanna come listen to the service?"

Admittedly, Stan wasn't ready to part with Gary yet despite their brief moment of uncomfortable friction. But sitting at the back of the church, listening to a service he didn't believe would make him feel like an incredible hypocrite, and bring back some unpleasant childhood memories of wrecking their first tentative attempt at friendship.

"No thanks, Gary, I'll, uh, think I'll stay here."

"You sure?" Gary asked, arching a concerned eyebrow. "You'll make it back to the hotel okay?"

"Definitely," Stan replied, waving him off. "I'll be fine."

Gary smiled tightly and nodded.

"Alright, I'll see you later." He exhaled and his smile loosened, content and handsome. "It's been great catching up, Stan."

"Yeah..." Stan nodded, brightening. "Yeah, it really has."

Gary raised his hand and waved, before walking away when Stan wasn't entirely sure he had nothing more to say to him. Panic needled at his heart, of this being their last encounter when it was too soon. Everything between them always ended too soon, and Stan wanted to break that cycle.

"Wait!"

Stan gulped when Gary turned around, fidgeting.

"Do you wanna meet up for a drink later?"

Gary's eyes seemed to light up, his brow twitching at the pleasant surprise.

"That would be great but, uh, I don't drink," he replied.

"Me neither-" Stan rolled his eyes at the eager words rolling off his nervous tongue. Gary didn't seem to mind, patient and amused. "I mean, I do _drink._ But not a lot, seeing my dad make a complete idiot out of himself when I was a kid, and uh, couple of bad experiences with whiskey has put me off the stuff."

Gary laughed and nodded.

"Well, alright. How about I pick you up from the hotel around eight?"

Stan smiled, resisting the urge to puff out his chest.

"Awesome." He nodded. "I'll see you then."

"See you later, Stan," Gary said, before walking away.

Stan watched, admiring Gary's shoulders and confident stride when all the while his mind was wandering to where they would go, and what he should wear, even though he knew he was over-thinking something that was strictly platonic. It had to be. Despite how much they perhaps both wanted this to be anything but. Still, friendship was always a good foundation to build something spectacular on, no matter how long it took. He was snapped out of his thoughts when something cool dripped onto his toe.

"Shit!" Stan muttered, when he saw that his ice cream had almost completely melted, and was running down his fingers.

* * *

"So no piercings, no tattoos, what else?"

Gary had taken them to one of those empty bars, that was now packed with people laughing, singing, and dancing to the cool, softly played music courtesy of the live band. Stan was amazed at what nightfall could do to a town so small. But he and Gary were refraining from the merriment, instead choosing to catch up at the cosy table for two by the window, overlooking the now dark, shimmering sea. When Gary had returned to their table with Stan's icy beer and his 'soda on the rocks' Stan became suddenly curious as to what other things were prohibited, that Gary had to abstain from... he was looking for insight, yes, but maybe also a chance. He was more willing to acknowledge that now, with a beer in his hand.

"Hmm..." Gary pondered. "No facial hair-"

"Seriously?"

"Yep, missionaries can't grow out beards. You need to be clean-shaven at all times. They're kinda picky about growing your hair out too."

"So is that your way of rebelling?" Stan asked, gesturing to Gary's hair.

Gary laughed softly to himself and tucked some behind his ear.

"Simon and Todd are pretty laid-back, and that's the kind of atmosphere we want to create in the church, you know?" he replied. "I mean, my church in Utah was pretty friendly and open, but if you didn't look like everybody else then you had to deal with people judging you. When you're an adult you can get over that stuff, but when you're a teenager, and you're trying to experiment, your parents could easily convince you that it's better to fit in."

"But then you're trying to fit into two different worlds, right?" Stan asked. "Like, what you would wear to church is different to what you would wear to school, or a party, isn't it?"

Gary shook his head.

"Not at my high school. We all dressed the same, and our parties were pretty tame, there was always some adult supervision."

Stan furrowed his eyebrows at how unimaginable that was to him.

"That sounds..."

"What?" Gary asked, shoulders slouching with an exasperated smile.

Stan wanted to defy Gary's expectation, and show that he wasn't as ignorant as he used to be. Who was he to judge when Gary seemed to turn out perfectly fine from this strange version of youth? Perfect being the operative word... Maybe all those stupid, embarrassing things Stan had done at teenage parties wouldn't have happened with some adult supervision?

"Different."

Gary shrugged.

"I never thought so, It was what I was used to. And some things... you can live without. My faith kind of fills the holes of everything I'm 'missing out on.'"

"I don't know, you still push the limits. Like, with your hair." Stan grinned. "Your parents don't say anything about it when you go home, do they?"

Stan took a sip of his beer as he waited for Gary's answer.

"No, they've never really seen my hair long like this," he replied, playing with his hair while avoiding Stan's eyes. "I haven't visited Utah since I got here."

Stan raised his eyebrows, remembering how loving, and close, and _perfect_ the Harrison family were. A rift between Gary and his parents seemed even more unimaginable than a dry house party.

"So you haven't seen your parents in nine years?"

"Nope," Gary replied matter-of-factly. "I call them every day, but I haven't gone back to Utah."

"Why?" Stan found himself asking, before it even occurred to him this was perhaps a subject better left dropped. "Um, sorry if that's a little personal..."

Gary shook his head and waved the apology off. Stan was starting to wonder if he'd ever let him be sorry for anything.

"No, no, I just... something has always kept me busy here, that I just couldn't leave," he explained. "Plus, I love this place and I know that if I went back home my parents would nag me about coming back for good and settling down, since that's what RMs do."

"RMs?"

"'Returned Missionaries'. Once missionaries come home, we're supposed to get married and start a family, but I don't want that. I've never wanted that. But I would also hate to let my family down, and if I came home and told them that they'd be crushed. Besides, it's..." Gary shook his head, frustration simmering beneath his sunny, handsome features. "It's not as easy as they think it is. It's hard to meet people."

"Yeah, especially when you're handsome and talented," Stan quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

Gary looked up from his drink, smirking and eyes glimmering once more. Stan just chuckled, in disbelief he had said that out loud, and felt heat crawl up his throat. Was he actually flirting with him? Could Gary see that? Or could he just compartmentalise it and ignore it? Another thing he seemed to have mastered.

"It's true!" Gary laughed. "A lot of RMs find it hard to adjust to normal life when they come home. It takes a lot of rewiring. Ever since we were kids we're told to abstain from dating, from romance, from..." he rolled his eyes and made a vague gesture with his hand. "You know... and then we're just supposed to forget all that so we can find someone to start a family with? And then you're playing catch-up, because, during that time of our lives when people our age are dating, and having their first serious relationships, we're doing our mission work and we're just completely clueless." He sighed, and circled the rim of his glass. "At least I am..."

Stan frowned. How could somebody as kind, and talented, and good-hearted as Gary be made to feel inadequate? Why should he have to settle for a life he didn't want and sacrifice a life, a place that made him incredibly happy?

"Well... what is normal, anyway?" Stan replied. "Being here makes you happy, and you do great work, and you're enjoying life and..." he sighed. To him, Gary had achieved everything he could have hoped for. He shouldn't be made to feel like it was nothing. "That's worth so much more than 'fitting in', Gary, trust me."

Gary looked up from his drink, searching Stan's face.

"You think so?"

Stan smiled, humbled, and nodded.

"Of course I do."

Gary returned the smile, tight and grateful.

"Thanks, Stan."

"No problem," he replied, taking a sip of beer.

He realised then, that even if the only thing he shared with Gary before he left was that piece of advice, he would be content.

* * *

Ever the gentleman, Gary had offered to walk Stan back to the hotel at the end of the evening, and if Stan didn't know any better he would have described this as a great first date. He had never so desperately wanted a night to continue. Luckily, Gary seemed to feel the same way when he took them on a detour to the beach, because Stan just _had_ to see it at night. Of course he had already experienced how wonderful and vibrant the island could be once the sun had set, but the rippling night sky reflected on the waves, and the sand glowing silver in the moonlight was so beautiful it seemed to silence the whole world.

"Wow..." Stan whispered. "You were right. It really is beautiful."

"Isn't it?" Gary replied, soft like he didn't want to disturb it. "Especially now. It's so peaceful. We have the entire beach to ourselves."

Stan hoped the night concealed his smile. The setting, the solitude still seemed so promising and exciting, even though Stan was sure he had resigned himself to the fact this couldn't lead anywhere. But did that mean he had been imagining those lingering, thoughtful looks he had caught Gary giving him that defied explanation? Were his stories really that interesting or was Gary engrossed for a different reason entirely? Didn't Gary seem to embrace and bask in his flirty comments easily liberated under the influence of alcohol instead of disarm and ignore them? Stan didn't know what to believe anymore, but just like this detour to the beach, he would follow Gary's lead.

"Look at the sea!" Gary added, pointing at the twinkling waves. "I wish I had my board. It's so inviting I could just dive right in."

"Then why don't you?"

"Because I've got nothing to wear."

"So?" Stan asked, out of his mouth before he could stop it. Why did his thoughts seem to run away from him when Gary was around? "You've never been skinny-dipping before?"

Gary chuckled and looked to the sky, shaking his head.

"No..."

 _Of course he hasn't._

"Well... nobody is going to see you except me..."

Stan had no idea why he was trying to persuade him, or why he even suggested the idea in the first place. Maybe he wasn't so resigned after all. That flicker of hope was a stronger flame than he first thought, that he just couldn't stamp out easily.

"You would join me though, right?" Gary asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Sure I would!" Stan laughed. "I wouldn't let you go in alone."

Gary still seemed unconvinced though, and Stan didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"But, if you, uh, don't want to, that's fine. If it's weird for you, we can just-"

"No, let's do it," Gary cut him off, taking a bracing breath as he looked at the sea then returned his gaze to Stan. "This is looking like a night of firsts, so I may as well go with it."

Stan smiled, that typical breeziness Gary exhibited seemed to be so at odds with all the restrictions he needed to place on himself.

"Alright," Stan replied, smile fading when it suddenly dawned on him he would have to get undressed. A more sensible part of him was cursing himself for opening his mouth. "So, I, uh, guess we should..."

Stan finished the sentence by popping open a button on his shirt. It was a tentative invitation for Gary to do the same, and was received with a cautious, earnest look of trust. He lifted his t-shirt over his head to reveal a white undervest, and Stan had to tear his eyes away from his tanned, muscular arms. His fingers were quivering as he unbuttoned the rest of his shirt.

Silence returned to the beach as they continued to undress, and when Stan let his shirt fall to the sand he shivered at the cool breeze bristling against his bare shoulders. Glancing at Gary, he saw that the vest had been removed, as well as his jeans, and Stan raked his gaze over pale, pink nipples, humble abs... and pursed his lips when he reached white, knee-length boxer shorts. Still, they only served to make Gary more adorable. Suddenly, their eyes met and Stan flushed and turned away as if they had both committed an invasion of privacy, when there seemed to be nowhere to hide on the beach. He went about taking off his own pants, vowing not to look at Gary until he spoke to him. The fabric pooled around his ankles and he stepped out of them.

He was stood in just his underwear now, toes curling in the sand, and he didn't even want to entertain the thought of Gary being naked beside him. It would've been a sultry, harmless enough fantasy if Stan was lying in bed already, staring up at the ceiling with his hands down his pants... but now the reality just terrified him. They would both be exposed, both vulnerable, and Stan would feel like he had let Gary down - confident enough to suggest the idea, but standing there awkwardly when the time came. Taking a shallow breath, Stan pushed his boxers down his hips and watched them fall to the ground. He daren't look up.

"Ready?" he asked, still preoccupied by the ground as he kicked his boxers off his ankles.

"Ready!" A voice called from further down the beach.

When Stan looked up he saw Gary already running to the shore, and he laughed, dazed and distracted by the undeniably pleasant view. Emboldened, Stan followed him, sand flying from beneath his feet as he jogged to the shore. Gary was already wading through the crashing waves by the time Stan was walking on soaked sand. The cool water wrapped around his ankles, tempting to pull him in as if it were conspiring with the siren figure Gary appeared to be – laughing, and grinning, and catching the light reflected from the piercing moon above.

"Come on!" he laughed, previous inhibitions clearly forgotten.

Stan smiled, figuring he could do the same. He walked in, and soon the water was lapping at his knees, his thighs, his hips and waist, and finally Gary was in front of him. If Stan didn't know any better he would've thought it was a dream. His feet barely touched the ground, his body was rocked by the sea as gentle as a lullaby, and Gary was glistening, and bare, smiling at him and close enough to touch. Gary extended no invitation to actually do so, however, and Stan didn't want to shatter the perfect moment by being presumptuous. He just smiled and admired Gary like a work of art, like he was another beautiful facet to the island. He was snapped out of his reverie when salty water collided with his face. He coughed, the salt prickling his skin. He could taste it on his lips and it dripped from his brow. The sound of Gary's delighted laughter turned Stan's attention to him, and he had a mischievous gleam in his eye that was new to Stan, as well as pleasing.

Dragging his hand through the water he splashed Gary too, and soon the pair were paddling further out to sea; chasing, and diving, and splashing each other. The waves grew louder and stronger the further they swam, as if the sea were reprimanding them for spoiling the island's quiet with their helpless, contented laughter. But who else would hear them except the fish, and birds, who never judged? Oddly, with the water skimming their shoulders and the shore in the distance, Stan had never felt so safe, so liberated in Gary's company. He wondered if Gary felt the same or, just like when he came out here to surf, was he thinking of nothing beyond the two of them? The heavy, impatient tide pushed them closer together, knees, shoulders and foreheads touching. Stan would have felt embarrassed, if the water wasn't providing them some modesty, if his clothes weren't forgotten on the sand. If Gary wasn't smiling like his nudity didn't faze him at all.

"Hi," Gary said the only word that seemed oddly appropriate.

"Hi..." Stan laughed, before realising he had yet to move away. He put some space between them. "Sorry..."

Gary rolled his eyes, but his smile didn't disappear.

"This is, like, the third time today that you've apologised to me."

"Oh," Stan whispered, flushing instantly. "Sorry..."

Stan shook his head and Gary mimicked him, with pursed lips and eyes brimming with bright endearment. It made Stan's skin flare even hotter, his heart drifting out to sea. Gary lifted his hand out of the water, and Stan jolted when he rested his palm on his cheek. If this was Gary's way of calming him it wasn't working. Stan's heart was thundering in his chest, but he didn't want this to end.

"I'm so glad you're here, Stan."

"Me too."

"This has been..." Gary paused, his eyes roaming Stan's face. "The most fun night of my life.

Stan nodded, hypnotised.

"Yeah, it's been pretty great."

He could have sank into Gary's arms when he started to brush his skin with his thumb, but while Gary's smile didn't waver, the gleam in his eyes had diminished. In fact, they seemed quite forlorn, and his touch, though gentle and affectionate, was weighted by a thoughtfulness Gary was perhaps unaccustomed to surrendering to when he was out here. The only way to lift that weight, Stan realised, was for Gary to speak his mind, to release those thoughts before they became malignant.

"You alright?" he asked. "What are you thinking about?"

Gary shook his head, like he hadn't realised he'd been doing it, like he was in a trance as well.

"I... I, I don't know, I just... being here with you..." Gary paused, struggling with the truth. He looked at his reflection in the water, defeated, but Stan was still searching his face, silently pleading for his confession. He blinked when Gary's earnest eyes met his. "Maybe this is what I've always wanted."

"R-r-really?" Stan asked, stuttering with disbelief.

Gary nodded, his thumb stroking Stan's cheek again in confirmation.

"Yeah..." he whispered, smiling. "Yeah, I think so."

The words were right out of the fantasies Stan had been surrendering to all day, and it seemed that Gary had surrendered too, to a force that was bigger than him; desire. Stan could feel it, hefty and debilitating between the two of them. This was his chance. Gary's hand was trembling at his cheek, and he was quivering too. He gulped, and with lidded eyes leaned forward, closing the gap between them.

"If you want it, Gary..." Stan could feel Gary's hot, raged breath on his lips. His voice had disintegrated into a whisper. "You can have it."

His head may have been whirring, his mind melting, but in his haze Stan realised that he had to play this just right; slow and careful. Right now, this was too precarious to lose, to drop with eager, shaking hands. Their lips met, tasting of salt, and Stan applied the gentlest pressure, knowing that – no matter how much it pained him – Gary could pull away with a thousand, stammering apologies. He would be ready for that, he would accept it and tend to his disappointment alone. But instead Gary opened his mouth and welcomed Stan's kiss, tilting his head to sample more of his lips and cupping his other cheek. Stan smothered a gasp, keening to Gary's touch when his fingers dragged through his hair. Emboldened, heart running away with risk, he pushed his tongue into Gary's mouth and found his hips beneath the water, pressing them closer together. Their kiss deepened, passionate, but with an innocence and tenderness Stan had forgotten about, and couldn't get enough of now.

"I..." Gary gasped. "I, I've never done this before."

"What?" Stan chuckled. "Made out in the sea?"

He leaned forward to reconnect their lips but Gary turned away.

"No, I mean, I, I've never kissed anyone like this before."

Although maybe it was to be expected, Stan was shocked. Kissing just seemed to be another activity Gary excelled at, another talent he had mastered. Smiling, Stan pressed their foreheads together and found Gary's eyes.

"You're doing great," he said, giving him another peck. "Believe me."

Gary moaned, readily kissing Stan again and he returned the kiss with the same enthusiasm. Soon, curious, Gary pecked Stan's chin, before lowering his head and kissing his neck. Moaning, Stan tipped his head back, any tension in his body melted away under the smouldering warmth of Gary's tentative, plush kisses. Still, he clutched him tightly under the water, digging his fingers into soft flesh, and if he could find his voice he would have told Gary not to stop.

"I can't believe this is happening..." Gary murmured, ragged and giddy into Stan's neck. "I never forgot about you, Stan... You're the first person I ever-" he stopped himself, nuzzling Stan like he could bury his confession under his skin. "I thought about you all the time..."

Gary's earnest words, bursting with a longing that had stewed for years, were just as dizzying as his kisses. Stan wished he could return the sentiment, cursed himself for how easily he could forget Gary. But he was a kid then, and the regretful ending of his and Gary's friendship had left his pride charred. Still, he remembered the quiet excitement he had kept to himself when their friendship was still promising, that feeling of awe that soon eclipsed envy when he realised just how incredible of a person Gary was.

Reality pierced his lusty haze when he felt something hard pressing against him under the water. For the first time in a long time, Stan was clueless as to how he should proceed. Should he acknowledge it? Would Gary want him to? What would his reaction be? This was still so delicate, so fragile. But Stan had seemed to awaken a passion and boldness in Gary that made him brave enough to accept his invitation to skinny-dipping, to seize what he had wanted for so long. And besides, Stan was unravelling under the press of Gary's gorgeous lips, didn't he deserve a little pleasure too? Some – clearly – much needed release?

He decided to stop deliberating, stop thinking – Gary never did when he was out here – and reach under the water, finding Gary's cock and wrapping his fingers around it.

" _Aaah, Stan!"_ Gary cried, arching into the touch.

His name had never sounded sweeter.

"Do you like that?" Stan asked, as if he didn't already know the answer.

Gary nodded, encouraging Stan to keep pumping harder and faster. The soft groans of newly discovered, different kind of rapture that fell from Gary's lips fuelled Stan's own arousal, but he wasn't concerned with that right now. All he wanted was to bring Gary into ecstasy. When Gary stiffened, whimpered, moved his hands to Stan's shoulders and squeezed, Stan assumed he was close. But then he realised Gary wasn't trying to pull him closer, he was trying to push him away.

"Stop..." he moaned. "Stan, please..."

"Huh?"

"Stop, please stop!" Gary pleaded.

Stan snatched his hand away, horrified, and shame curdled his arousal.

"Gary, I'm sorry, it's okay-"

"No." Gary shook his head, backing away from Stan and staring at his fractured reflection. "No, it's not. This... th-th-this is wrong..."

He was shivering, as if the water had become icy. The pink, passionate flush of his skin now paled into terrified white, and his eyes widened. Stan wished Gary would look at him, so he could reassure him everything would be alright. He wished he could touch him again without making him flinch.

"But it's not wrong! Gary, trust me, there's nothing wrong with-"

"I need to go," Gary cut in, before swimming away from Stan and heading to the shore.

Stan felt just as frozen as Gary had looked, hurt and in disbelief that Gary had abandoned him.

"Gary! Gary, wait!"

Stan began to follow him, tried to catch up with him, but Gary was an impressive swimmer. By the time Stan reached the shore, Gary was already getting dressed. Stan was panting as he walked towards Gary, both with exhaustion and a frustration he thought he had buried and put to rest a long time ago, that he could rise above now that he and Gary were embarking on a better, more mature friendship. But it was buried in a shallow grave, and had never had peace. Only when Stan was reunited with Gary did he realise he still had so much left to say.

"Gary, can we please talk?" Stan asked, nearing him.

He had put his underwear on, his vest and boxers, and was now slipping his t-shirt over his head.

"I'm sorry, Stan. I, I, I shouldn't have led you on like that," he replied, still refusing to turn around and face him. "I don't know what came over me, but it wasn't your fault, I just... I just need to get back on track. I just need to get back on track and turn off these thoughts in my head."

Stan scowled, hating that Gary didn't even have the guts to face him, that he could so easily shove his desire to the side and ignore it forever. That he could ignore _him_ , after all those wonderful things he had said to him that he knew were true.

"Can you do that?"

"Yeah, sure, it's easy." Gary shrugged. "I've been doing it for years. You don't need to worry about me, Stan."

"But I am fucking worried about you!"

Turns out all Stan needed to do was curse to get Gary's attention. He looked over his shoulder, and Stan stood firmer in an attempt to appear more confident, fortified. But he was still naked, and he hurriedly grabbed his boxers from his pile of clothes.

"This isn't healthy, Gary!" he continued, starting to get dressed. "You can't keep denying things you want... things that are _normal_ , and that are a part of who you are because some guy in a book tells you to!"

"That's my religion, Stan!" Gary replied, turning to face him fully now. "It's the most important thing to me, it's... it's what's guided me throughout my entire life, and I'm proud of it! Doing what we did out there?" He shook his head, grimacing. "It's like a betrayal of everything I know is right! Of what I was raised to believe!"

"So running away from your fears is right?" Stan challenged, stepping towards him. But a different tension was pulled taut between them. "Running away from your family, and your identity is right? That's what that book teaches you?"

Gary shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"Would it kill you just once to have some respect for my faith?" he muttered.

"Fine!" Stan shouted. "It's just... it's hard to have respect for something that's holding you back like this!"

Gary balked, wide eyes flitting back and forth.

"It's never held me back-"

"But it has!" Stan cried, his voice straining with frustration. "You can tell me otherwise, but I know you're not really happy! I could see it in your eyes before we kissed! Despite everything else you believe, wouldn't God want you to be happy? Wouldn't He want you to be true to yourself?"

Gary scoffed, shook his head and raked his gaze over Stan.

"I think it's pretty rich that now you're so concerned with what Heavenly Father wants for me. How would you even know what He wants, Stan?"

Stan didn't. He only knew what _he_ wanted, and yes, that was for Gary to be happy, without having to deny himself, without shame. But he also wanted _Gary_ , and for a peerless, euphoric moment in the sea he thought he had achieved that. He sighed.

"I don't know... but I thought you wanted me, out there you said you wanted me."

"I know I did, and that was wrong," Gary replied, meeting Stan's eyes and trying to be measured. "I wasn't thinking, I... wh-when I'm out there, I, I, I don't think. You can't expect me to choose between my religion and you-"

"No, I guess I can't," Stan cut in, folding his arms across his chest and avoiding Gary's eyes. "Because we both know who the fucking winner would be."

"I can't believe I thought you had changed," Gary replied, and the contempt in his voice was hard to ignore. Stan never thought he would hear him talk like that.

When he looked at him, he saw that Gary's eyes were gleaming with tears.

"Good night, Stan," he said, before walking away.

Stunned and fuming, Stan didn't reply. He continued to dress, but the beach wasn't so quiet anymore. Gary's parting words in his mind were deafening.

* * *

Stan hated that he was due to leave without saying goodbye to Gary, or without a chance to apologise to him. After that night on the beach he had been keeping to himself, telling himself that this trip was about being alone with his thoughts so he could figure out what he really wanted from life. But he soon became bored, and restless, especially when his mind always drifted back to that night on the beach, his justifications for his behaviour waning thin. Indignation had curdled into embarrassment now, and he was angrier with himself than Gary. He may not have understood Gary's devotion to his faith, but he could at least respect it, and he knew he would never get Gary's respect in turn if he continued to undermine his beliefs.

At the bar Stan thought he could be content leaving the island – and Gary – if his advice was the only thing they shared, but in the sea, with Gary in his arms, he became greedier, wanting Gary too. Now he realised that he would rather leave the island with Gary's forgiveness than nothing at all. Maybe that was what he had needed for years? But forgiveness wasn't granted without apology.

He was now stood at the back of the crowded church, watching a group of kids re-enact a scene from the Book of Mormon in homemade costumes. He stood there with folded arms, and a bowed head, not wanting to draw attention to himself when he felt so nervous that his voice seemed to have shrunk in his throat. Still, he had smiled whenever Gary spoke to the congregation, or quietly congratulated the kids off stage for their performances. He was a comfortable, dreamy distraction and Stan felt silly for even feeling the slightest bit anxious around him.

The service came to an end, and Stan exchanged polite smiles with the departing crowd, shifting from the door so as not to block anyone's path. Everyone seemed chatty, enthused, feeling good about the hour that they had spent at the church. Stan could have almost forgotten his reservations. Who was he to judge what brought people joy and comfort?

"Hi!" A familiar voice pulled Stan out of his thoughts and released the butterflies in his stomach. He moved away from the wall when Gary approached him.

"Didn't think I would see you here," Gary said, hands in his pockets and a grin on his face. He was still happy to see him, after everything that had happened. It emboldened Stan. "How long have you been hanging out at the back?"

"An hour?" Stan shrugged, and sighed. Honestly, it felt amazing to be stood in front of him again, to be cast in his cheerful glow, even if the dark circles under his eyes suggested everything hadn't been so sunny for him lately. "The service was great, Gary."

Gary snickered, ducking his head and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Thanks, but I can't take all the credit. The other guys do an amazing job. I couldn't do it without them."

"Well, I'm glad I got to see you in action before I left," Stan replied, taking a deep, bracing breath. "My boat is arriving in an hour or so..."

Gary blinked, his brow knitted.

"Oh... really?"

It was the first time Stan saw him frown, in daylight at least, and it weighed heavily on his heart.

"Yeah, I..." he shook his head, teeth gritted. Why was this so hard to say? He sighed. "Look, Gary, I just want to-"

"Why don't we go outside?" Gary cut in.

Stan nodded, anything to make this easier. Gary led them outside, and the fresh, humid air was faint relief for Stan's nerves. They both leaned against the porch, looking out over the colourful street, and the azure strip that distinguished the sea from the sky in the distance. Over the soft hum of traffic, you could still hear the conversations of the now dispersed congregation heading home.

"You were saying?" Gary said, breezy as always.

Stan blinked, shaking his head. When Gary made everything seem so simple, Stan could have forgotten why they were out here in the first place.

"Oh, yeah, I just... I just wanted to apologise for what happened the other night on the beach." Stan became nervous again when he saw Gary nod solemnly, uncomfortably. "It's just that everything happened so fast, and I was so confused... but I was disrespectful and selfish too, I realise that now. Honestly, your dedication to your faith is really wonderful, and, it's clearly working for you." Stan sighed. Adoration tugged the corners of his mouth into a smile. "You're so inspiring, Gary, and I would hate to miss out on being your friend."

All the honesty and apprehension were worth it, when Stan's words seemed to light up Gary's face so beautifully.

"Wow, that's..." he shook his head, his smile widening. "That's amazing, Stan, thank you so much."

"No problem," Stan murmured, suddenly sheepish.

"I haven't stopped thinking about that night," Gary admitted. "I've been going over and over it in my head. But all that obsessing made me realising something... you were right."

More words straight out of Stan's wildest dreams. He was hiding his surprise poorly, but Gary didn't seem to mind. He just laughed and nodded.

"Yeah, you were right," he continued. "I'm not happy. At least, not one hundred percent happy, and that isn't good enough, right? I've felt this way for so long that I just accepted it as normal. But then when I saw you again, I remembered how it felt to be a kid, and not care, and not have to sacrifice your feelings..." his smile wavered, replaced by something more earnest. "I love my religion, but I want more than that. It's like I've been living with this unbalance, this all-or-nothing way of thinking, but that's only a half-life, isn't it? It's not living life to the full."

"So what are you gonna do?" Stan asked, enthralled and delighted. He wasn't even thinking of himself, but what wonderful opportunities were open to Gary now that he was accepting a happiness he deserved.

"I'm not sure yet... but I know I have to do some thinking," Gary replied, steely with determination. "Real, honest thinking. I've been burying my thoughts for so long, that accepting and acknowledging them now is overwhelming. But I have to do it. It's the only way I'm going to figure out a compromise between my religion and my sexuality, where I can follow my faith and embrace my identity, to figure out who I am separately from my religion and stop punishing myself."

"I'm so proud of you, Gary." Stan was beaming so much that his cheeks were hurting. "This is going to be so great for you."

"Thank you." Gary nodded with a shy, tight smile. "I hope so. I hope you can be a part of it, Stan. If you want to..."

Stan blinked, in disbelief that he was being offered such an invitation. He grinned, stepped closer.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Gary replied, cool as ever. "It would be a shame for us to lose contact for another nineteen years."

Stan rolled his eyes and laughed. Had they really not spoken for that long? It seemed impossible.

"Totally," he agreed.

"Can I have your number?"

"Sure," Stan replied, readily reaching into his shorts pocket for his phone.

"I'm thinking about coming home for Christmas," Gary said as they exchanged numbers. "Maybe we can meet up then?"

"Like, a date?"

Stan regretted the presumptuous words as soon as they came out of his mouth, his face burning. Gary looked at his phone screen as he tried to figure out how to respond.

"S-s-sorry, I, I don't know why I said that-"

"It's fine," Gary assured. "It's just that... don't get me wrong, I would love to go out on a date with you." He smiled, and Stan knew it was genuine. "But I don't know if it's such a good idea, right now. It's going to take me a while to get used to this. I don't expect you to wait for me, Stan, but my feelings for you will never go away. So can we just take it slow for now?"

"We can do whatever you want," Stan replied, smiling too and looking into Gary's eyes so he knew he meant it.

Putting his phone back in his pocket, Gary pulled Stan close to him and wrapped him up in his arms. Stan soon sank into embrace, savouring the feeling of Gary's warm skin beneath his shirt, and those strong arms holding him. He smiled, despite how long he would have to wait to hug Gary again, because at least now he knew this wouldn't be the last time. In the humidity, goosebumps rose on his skin when he felt hot, soft lips place a kiss behind his ear.

"I'll miss you," Gary whispered, lips brushing against his skin.

Stan nodded, eyes drifting shut as he gave Gary a gentle squeeze.

"I'll miss you too," he replied, nuzzling into his shoulder. "I'm so glad I came here."

Gary nodded.

"Me too."

Who would ever have thought, when they came to this beautiful island searching for a new direction, that their paths would lead right back to each other?


End file.
